Page 96 of On the Ropes
Dean
My parents were trying to teach Tabitha how to do the twist.
I leaned against the wall, hand in my pocket, and tried to figure out if they were successful or unsuccessful. What I did know was that Tabitha was flushed and sweating. At one point she was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.
I hadn’t stopped grinning once. Tabitha had caught me pacing outside her house tonight because I knew inviting her here was possibly a really stupid idea. Judging by my reactions to her all evening, I’d been right about that. But all I knew was that I couldn’t picture showing up to family dinner without her.
Except I’d have to next week and the weeks after.
“You can ask Dean,” Tabitha panted, swiveling her hips in a circle, “but I’m kind of a natural when it comes to physical activity.”
“You should see her run the Rocky steps,” I said.
My parents were twisting their hearts out, singing along to the music. Mom twirled around in a circle. “The two of us like to cut a rug when we can. And are pretty damn good at it, if I say so myself.”
The three of them danced in our tiny front room—furniture shoved back, the rug rolled up. Dinner had been finished an hour ago. Tabitha and I had tackled the dishes while my parents told her a mix of slightly embarrassing stories about me and incredibly embarrassing stories about their relatives back home in Italy.
Watching them dance and laugh made me realize how affected they’d been by the past couple years. Not just the initial symptoms of my concussion but everything that had come with losing my identity.
It was nice to see them having some spontaneous fun too.
Tabitha crooked her finger at me as her hair flew around her face. “And I’ve been trying to get you to dance with me since I bumped into you at Benny’s.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Who says I can dance like that?”
My parents shot me matching smirks. But then Mom slowed down and tugged Midge toward the kitchen. “Come on, dear. Let’s put the decaf on and pack up a few plates of leftovers for Eddie and Alice.”
Those matching smirks only grew as they walked past me. Mom muttered something to Midge in Italian. I barely caught it but thought I heard such a cute couple.
Tabitha was still moving in the center of the room. I slowly walked toward her.
“You know,” she said, “this dance move was considered quite scandalous back in the day. Too much provocative hip action.”
“You would know, troublemaker,” I said.
Her double middle fingers had me laughing. The song started again. I grabbed her hand and began mimicking her dance moves as her eyes widened. She went still. I kept dancing, smile playing on my lips.
“Holy shit. Dean Knox-Morelli can do the twist?” she asked, shocked.
I turned her gently around and kept dancing. “I was a boxer, Tabitha,” I said softly. “I know how to move my body.”
She looked over her shoulder, dazed. “Physical prowess. Well-documented. I remember.”
My smile grew. “It was impossible to grow up in this house and not know how to do a lot of different types of dancing. You should see Rowan. He’s even better than me.”
Tabitha spun back around looking adorably pleased. “And we could have been dancing in swanky uptown clubs all this time.”
“I prefer dancing with only you.”
Her throat worked. “You’re amazing. An amazing…dancer.”
I made sure my parents were still in the kitchen, distracted. Then I looped an arm around her waist and tugged Tabitha against my chest. I bent her backward and kissed her. I didn’t know what came next for us. Didn’t know how many kisses we had left.
She sighed against my mouth. I was back to acting on pure instinct again, giving into pleasure like I was supposed to. This was certainly a pleasure—seeing Tabitha make my parents laugh and dance with flushed cheeks and move to music for no reason other than joy.
I ended the kiss reluctantly. “You’re amazing too,” I whispered.
We broke apart at the sound of my parents coming back into the room with decaf coffee.
